Where the Sun Sparkles
by HedgieX
Summary: Don't be expecting a happy ending, but I like to think there's a little more of that 'glimmer of hope' here than in the real ending. And Malcolm comes back here too, which is always a bonus. Alternative ending for 1006, beginning on the hillside...


_**The final episode of Spooks was wonderful, but somehow not quite right for me, and I think that's probably how everyone feels – there's at least something they'd have added in or taken out.**_

_**Anyway, it starts the same from when Ruth is stabbed, then kind of trails off into my own ideas. I'm not too happy with the beginning, but bear with it…**_

**Where the Sun Sparkles**

"Ruth!"

The shard of glass piercing flesh; a muffled gasp echoed across the hills as she staggered backwards. The remnants of a smile slid from her lips. Her hands found their way up, somehow, and she clasped her side.

The bullet hit Sasha with a similar sound, a sickening tune played out by pain. He fell down, like a domino toppling from a desk. Beside him, Ruth crumpled into the grass.

Erin, and Dimitri, and Calum. One look, and they knew. Knew what Harry, as he threw himself to the ground by her side, refused to consider.

"It's funny. I can't breathe."

He forced out a couple of words of comfort, not even knowing what he was saying.

Calum and Dimitri had gone; run for their kit. Erin crouched down, raised a hand tentatively to his arm, blinked back emotion.

"My face is cold," Ruth murmured, her eyes the deepest shade in the world as she held his gaze, pleading with him.

"Let me."

He shook his head.

"Harry," Erin's voice was barely audible above the howling of the suddenly bitter breeze, "She said her face is cold."

Every second passed by in snapshots. Flashes from the past, as if it were a movie of his life. Ruth's ragged sobs cut into his soul sharper than any knife. He reached out, stroked her cheek.

Erin forced out reassurances where he couldn't; told the older woman she'd grown to admire so much that everything was okay. She said what needed to be heard. That was what she did; what they all did. Lied for the greater good.

Harry asked her about her seaside cottage. Listened as she spluttered about doors and peeling paint. Prompted her, to remind himself he was there. His heart wasn't, though. It was splintering into a million tiny specks and floating towards the sea as Ruth's lips formed the smallest of smiles.

"I told you I couldn't imagine living there. I couldn't imagine living there _without you_."

His voice broke as he told her they'd do it, together. They'd live; they'd be so happy. She was fading away now – she couldn't hide the pain as her gasps became ever more irregular. Neither could he.

"Harry, we were never supposed to have those things."

Dimitri, back. Calum, breaking the silence with helicopter updates. Erin, unable to withhold her tears; perfect droplets trickled down her cheeks.

"Harry," Sasha moaned. Lying on the floor, blood pooling. His eyes filled with tears too. "отец."

Harry reached out a hand to the boy, the boy he'd spent thirty years believing was his son. He was nothing. Just another disposable Russian betrayer. He was never be forgiven by any of them for what he'd just done.

But Harry saw his pain, and saw his regret; he hadn't meant to stab Ruth. Life wasn't simple when your triple-agent mother was murdered by a man who may or may not have been your father. Sasha was just a boy. There were victims in all wars.

And so he took the boy's outstretched hand as he breathed his last, and saw the fleeting relief in those scared eyes as they closed forever. Harry could only hope the action would've been reciprocated.

Harry dropped Sasha's lifeless hand, turned back to Ruth. She gave the tiniest nod. The faintest smile. She and Harry, they weren't emotionally forthright. Spies weren't; couldn't be. They were made of secrets.

But he didn't need to say those things, didn't need to tell her he loved her. Because he knew. And he knew in return. They'd spent, deep down, ten years knowing. That was all they needed.

Her blood seeped through his fingers as her eyes flickered shut. She was cold. So cold.

"Ruth," he was just numb. As cold inside as Ruth's blood stained fingers.

"Dee," Erin prompted weakly. Dimitri's hands trembled as they lifted the adrenalin. He brushed back her collar, tucked away her necklace. Stabbed the needle into her neck.

Harry winced. Winced for her pain, winced for the things they'd been through together. For everything they'd sacrificed, and all that they'd gained. He watched her white face remain still. He held his breath, and pleaded with any God who'd listen that she'd be okay.

XxXxX

"Have you read the report?"

Calum and Erin stared blankly past Erin and towards the office.

The section chief sighed, "Dee?"

"Yeah," Dimitri nodded. Erin reached out to touch his shoulder. He pulled her close.

"You guys okay?" Tom popped his head around the door. No one replied. He crossed the room, sank down onto the desk opposite. "I know I'm not qualified in your eyes to sit at that desk. I understand that. I don't feel worthy either."

"It's not that," Calum mumbled. Dimitri watched his colleague now, and he admired him. He'd changed. They'd all changed, but Calum so much more. Tariq would've been amazed. "I was just thinking about bowling."

"Bowling?"

"Ruth's leaving do. We never did anything; we never said goodbye. There wasn't time."

"There's never time, Calum. Never enough time," Tom shook his head. This week had been hard. They were all grieving. "Harry and Ruth…they gave so, so much to this country. They gave too much. And their lives were hard. But they never lost sight of what was right. They died together; they didn't suffer. They loved each other. And I think that's something we all need to remember, at these times."

"Harry says…Harry _said_ something, about this job. That it takes you in, and chews you up, and spits you out. He said it to everyone," Dimitri's arm tightened around Erin's waist, just a little.

"But you still do it. We all do," Tom tapped a foot against the chair, eyeing each officer in turn. A good team. A changed team, but a good team. A team he'd be proud of in the future. "Harry said many things. Wise and noble things. But you know, I don't think he was right that time."

There was silence. A peaceful kind of silence, tinged with sadness. Their lives would always be bittersweet; it was part of MI5. They made they decisions, and they lived with them. Not one of them, though, at that moment, regretted it. Harry hadn't, and they wouldn't. They owed him, and Ruth, that. They owed themselves that.

"Erin, that report on my desk by lunch, please."

Erin managed a small smile as Tom left them to it. Some things would never change – grumpy bosses was one. Grumpy, but wonderful. It was always good to have one constant in this world, one thing you could be sure of.

"Cal, a synopsis? Calum?"

Calum paused. Glanced down at the sheet of paper in his hands, then lingeringly from Erin to Dimitri. Then he raised an eyebrow. "Bad people want to kill us."

None of them could argue with that.

XxXxX

A man stepped out from the shadows. An old man; his skin weathered, his legs weak. He glanced around, checking he was alone, then raised a hand to the wall in front of him.

Names, so many names, engraved into it. Some he knew, some he didn't. Some he remembered fondly, others not. All like him, though, every one of them.

"Sorry I haven't been in a while, Harry," he addressed the last panel, although not the last name. Not now. "You know what life's like."

It was peaceful here. Peaceful, in a sorrowful sort of way. As if the dead were sleeping.

"Mum's gone now. To a better place, I like to thin. Maybe you'll be looking down on me together."

The man raised his head to the sky. There was a roof, of course – the people here remained secret even in death. But it was glass, and the sunlight filtered through and sparkled.

"Tom Quinn's doing alright too, I believe. A good lad, Tom. Lost his way, but found it again. You'd be proud; I'm sure you were proud of them all. They were proud of you."

Another glance back along. H FLYNN, he picked out. D HUNTER, Z YOUNIS, R MYERS. So many lives given up for the country – sacrificed for those who'd never know.

C JAMES and L NORTH, too. The man couldn't pretend he'd liked either, but here they were remembered for the things they'd given, not their sins. Sometimes it went wrong. It wasn't any easy world, when your lives were made of secrets.

"I'm glad about you and Ruth. I don't think I've ever said that before. That first date; how you were when she left, and then returned. Those looks between you, all the way through. That was love, Harry; we all knew it. It gives me hope to think you were both happy, at the end. God knows you deserved it."

He didn't think he'd come back here again. He'd never forget, but that was how life was; you moved on. Whether you liked it or not, you moved on.

And maybe soon he'd be joining Harry anyway, and Ruth, and all those others. Maybe his name would be the next added to the memorial. That didn't scare him any more. He was ready.

"Our doubts are traitors, and make us lose the good we oft might win, by fearing to attempt," he raised hand to the stone, traced his finger across the names.

H PEARCE, and R PEARCE.

"Pactum serva, Harry. Pactum serva."

And then Malcolm Wynn-Jones straightened his jacket and walked back out into the cold.

XxXxX

_**Thanks for reading, please tell me what you thought xx**_

_**As per usual, I don't own Spooks or the characters. Some of the lines at the beginning are Sam and Jon's script.**_


End file.
